In Handcuffs
by Hyperactivelion
Summary: One-Shot AU story after TDA. Courtney is working as a young successful layed in NYC, she got ligge under control. That is until a certain orge is accused of murder. (Might make it a chapter fic if people like it)


**AN: **AU story set ten years after Total Drama Action. The other seasons didn't occur for this story. And also they're from USA in this story, not Canada.

**In Handcuffs**

"So which rich bastard am I representing this time anyway?" Courtney asks her secretary. It had become a bad habit for her to read through every detail of the case file besides the client's name.

"Umm..." the secretary trails off while ruffling of paper can be heard in the background.

"Princess?" a familiar - though perhaps a little darker - voice questions.

Country turns around so quickly her hair whips around her. Then she comes face to face with the guy she has cursed the existence of more times than she'd like to count.

"Duncan," she exhales.

Even though she wishes she never had to see him again, she has to admit that seeing him in handcuffs brings her some pleasure. Guilty pleasure at that, but she's still enjoying herself more than she should once she gets over the initial shock.

"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, internally scolding himself for stuttering.

"Proving your innocence. Walk with me," she orders, keeping her voice firm. Not even waiting for him to respond she heads toward the courtroom where they're due in 5 minutes. Her need to constantly be in control is being heavily tested and stretched today. She's gonna kill Olsen for not calling in sick earlier! The airhead waited until there were only 2 hours until court before calling the office telling them he was sick. Just enough time for Courtney to go through the file.

"Look, there'll be no trips down memory lane, we'll keep this strictly professional. I'm just your lawyer and you're my client. That's it," she tells him sternly as they walk down the hallway.

"So I'm yours and you're mine, huh? Just like the in the old days," Duncan smirks.

"What did I just say?" she groans. There's a slight sting in her heart at how aloof he's about their past. She hates that she once again feels like the girl who got dumped in Vegas with no money to get home. Or get anywhere for that sake. "All I need to know is if you did it or not. Did you kill that navy officer?" she momentarily stops and looks him dead in the eye. All the mirth leaves those blue, blue eyes.

"No. Didn't you read my testimony to the cops?" he says, sounding offended and a tad outraged.

"Of course I did, but there's a huge difference between what you tell the cops and what you tell your lawyer. Didn't Olsen explain that to you?" It wouldn't surprise her if he didn't.

"I guess. I was still pretty hung over first time we met," Duncan admits.

"Of course you were. Though with how many times you've been through this one would think you knew," she comments.

"Have you been keeping taps on me, Princess?" Duncan says teasingly with his trade mark smirk.

"I was referring to juvie. How much trouble can you actually get in?" she sighs and opens the door for him and they walk into the court room.

"Well considering that I'm being wrongfully accused of murder at the moment, I'd say a lot."

They sit down by their table and Courtney opens up the file, re-reading what she deems the most important.

"Anyway, what I said to the police is the truth. That's what happened, and that's all I know," he whispers in her ear.

"Well unfortunately Olsen didn't let you say much. When they call brake we'll have to go into detail," she says quietly back.

"In that case: a detail you might want to know - off the record - is that your ass looks great in that pencil skirt," he whispers, his usual smirk on his lips.

She want to slap him! 10 years and he hasn't changed at all! Right when she's about to give him a piece of her mind the guards calls for everyone to rise for the judge.

When they're done for the day Duncan is lead back to his cell and Courtney goes back to her office. She knows there's something up with the brother's, cousin's and the navy friends' testimony. She just knows it!

Finally she finds the testimony they gave to the police. She knew it! Calling down to the receptionist she tells her to hail her a cab before she stuffs the file back down in her brief for what feels like the millionth time today. When she slides into the cab she calls for the driver to take her to the precinct, and step on it. She makes it there in about ten minutes and tips the cabby generously.

"Brett!" she calls, making her way to the detective's desk. Fate must really hate her considering she used to date the detective in charge of Duncan's case.

"Courtney. Knew you'd eventually realize your mistake," Brett smiles cockily.

"I'm here about the killed navy officer," she tells him, "I'm the defendant's lawyer," she explains.

"Right. Rich kid. In and out of juvie as a kid. A drunk," Brett sums up.

"Right. But he's not a killer," she states and follows him as he stands and starts walking through the precinct.

"And how would you know?"

"I spend all my days defending both guilty and innocent people. After a while you learn to tell the different," she states. It's a slight stretch, but she does know Duncan - At least she likes to think she did. Once upon a time - and she's positive he could never murder anyone.

"Then who do you suppose did it?" he asks, turning to face her with a stern expression.

"There's something up with the brother, cousin, and friends. Their testimony is exactly the same. Word for word," she tells him, "As if it was rehearsed. Surely after all this time there should be a slight change."

"And you're sure about this?" he questions, finally taking her seriously.

"One hundred present. But you should be able to check for yourself," she looks confidently up at him, chin held high.

"And I will. But don't get too disappointed if we don't come up with anything," he warns her.

"I won't. Thanks Brett," she smiles before rushing back out of there, figuring she's deserved a good night's sleep.

"Wait, I don't understand," Duncan states, frowning confused at Courtney.

"Your investigation was opened up again and therefore the court has been put on hold," she explains a second time.

"Yeah, but how?"

"I guess the uncovered some new evidence or something," she shrugs, not really understanding why she is reluctant to tell Duncan it's thanks to her. "You might get called in by the police to explain yourself again though."

"I'll explain myself a billion times if that keeps me outta jail," he states enthusiastically, clearly relived.

"I don't think that'll be necessary," she tells him.

"Still not able to take a joke, huh princess?" he smirks. He actually kinda missed teasing her. And maybe he just missed her.

"I can take a joke. It's just that your sense if humor is terrible," she states, "Unfortunately you won't be released yet. But if the new evidence is in our favor you won't have to prove your innocence at all."

"You know as well as anybody that I'm not innocent," he smirks before eyeing her up and down, "And I have it on good authority that you love getting down 'n dirty and give up all control," he tells her.

Her heart stings again at how he talks about their past. Like it's easy for him. Like he doesn't feel like breaking down, crying, every time he thinks about them. It's like she was just any other fling to him.

"I've grown up," she states - even though she feels like the same 16 year old girl who was left by herself in Vegas by a guy she thought she could trust again every time she meets his eyes.

"Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional," he states, leaning back in his seat, smirking at her from across the steel table.

"How very poetic of you," she says before standing up, "I'll visit when I got updates. Meanwhile is there anyone you'd like me to call?"

"No, there's no one," he states and stands up himself. He hates to see her leave. Wishes he could make her stay and talk. She's the only girl he was ever interested in hearing what she had to say. "Thanks, Courtney," he gives her a sad smile.

"Don't thank me. You're paying me after all," she tells him, then heads out of there.

A guard shows up not even half a minute later to escort him back to his cell.

Days passes by before she visits again. All he can do is lay in his top bunk and think about her while his cell mate is constantly sketching stuff down in his bunk. They don't talk much, but Duncan figures he couldn't have done something too bad like child molesting or anything of the sort 'cause it seems most if the other guys in here likes him.

He doesn't see the point in making friends. He'll be out of here soon enough. The court system can't be so bad that they let an innocent guy go to jail for murder, right? Besides, his princess is on it. He bets she got into a nice school, got a good education and now she got a killer job. It should be at least with what he's paying her firm. Freedom is sure as hell not free.

"Whatcha drawing down there?" he asks on a whim one day when he's more bored than usual.

"Well look who's talking," the guy notes, the amusement clear in his tone.

"Had to. Was afraid I was going mute," Duncan jokes.

His cell mate snickers.

"So whatcha drawing?" he asks again.

"Someone's girlfriend. Or was it fiancé? Nah I think this one was just his girlfriend," he says.

"You draw other guys' girlfriends?" Duncan asks, not hiding how weird he thinks that is.

"For them," the guy explains, "Some of 'em didn't bring a picture in here so I make a drawing for them. For something in return of course."

"How much do you charge?" Duncan asks. It's probably stupid of him. Courtney would be pissed if she knew. Though on second thought that's seems more like a reason to do it rather than not to.

"How much do you want it?" he retaliates.

"I'll give you 30 dollars," Duncan says, making sure the finality of his offer is prominent.

"You got a deal. But you gotta wait in line," he states.

"How long is the line?"

"Five in front of you."

"How many for 80?" Duncan asks reluctantly. It's not a like it's a lot of money for him. Far from. He just hates how desperate it makes him, to offer more to get a drawing of her faster.

"Let me just finish this one and I'll get started on yours after," the guy says.

"Brett! Just tell me! You know it'll get around to me eventually. It's not like you'll get in trouble for telling me," Courtney argues.

"I won't tell you. Just wait until it "get around to you". Why the rush?" he asks, looking down at her, arms crossed over chest.

She crosses her arms too, keeping her chin held high, "My client would like to know if he's still a suspect," she states firmly.

"You know I found an episode of the show your client won all his money on," Brett states, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Courtney is proud of herself for not reacting to that at all, "What does that have to do with this? Did he threaten to kill a marine officer ten years into the future?" she asks snakily.

"No," Brett drawls, "but you and your client seemed pretty cozy," he's full on smirking now.

Courtney doesn't falter, "I don't see what that has to do with this case," she states again.

"Why so invested in this case, Court? You still have feelings for this guy?" Brett asks mockingly.

"Don't be childish. I don't give a dead rat's ass about my client beyond getting him out of jail. Which is what he's paying my firm to do," she tells him, voice stern.

"If you say so," Brett says in a slight sing-song voice, smirk staying on his lips.

"Just tell me what you've discovered," she requests.

Sighing, Brett gives in, "Hey Ollie!" he yells at his partner, "Tell Courtney what we've found out," he orders.

"Sure. Nice seeing you again Courtney," he smiles friendly at her.

"Oliver. Always a pleasure," she smiles back and walks over to his desk.

"So his buddies said the exact same?" Duncan asks, sitting by the steel table once again.

"No they had each their testimony, but they said the exact same to the cops and when they were in court. And since they're each other's alibi the police has put them up as main suspects. But until they find a motive, means and opportunity you're unfortunately still stuck in here," Courtney explains, giving him an apologetic look in the end.

He takes her hands in his, "Don't worry about me princess, I'm good in here until they find the real murderer," he tells her, smiling reassuring.

"You- you haven't made any enemies in here or anything, have you?" she asks worriedly. She can't help herself, she needs to know that he's safe.

"Nah, I've managed to stay out of trouble," he tells her smirking.

"Well that's a first," she notes, making Duncan chuckle.

For a moment they just sit in silence, Duncan stroking his thumb back and forward over her wrist. The skin tingles in a comfortable way where he touches her.

"Still no one I can call for you?" she asks, needing to start up a conversation.

"Actually there is. His name is Collin White. Got anything for me to write on?" He asks, straitening his back and releasing her hands.

"Sure. Of course," she mumbles and starts fumbling for her notepad and a pen, handing it over when she got it.

"Ok, here's his number. Just call him, tell him where I am and that I want an update," he tells her scribbling down the number.

She quickly looks the number over before tearing out the page and putting it in her pocket.

After a moment of contemplating curiosity gets the better of her and she asks, "Update on what?"

"I figured you'd ask. Don't worry it's nothing illegal. Just my stocks," he states.

"You have stocks?" she asks shocked.

"Figured I'd be smart and not waste it all. Collin is a friend who keeps an eye on my stocks for me. He pulls out if there's a risk they'll go down," he explains.

Courtney giggles slightly, "Duncan, you don't "pull out of" your stocks, you sell them," she states.

"Fine, then that's what Collin does," he says.

"Is it really that smart of you to trust this Collin guy with your money?" she asks uncertainly.

"He hasn't messed up yet. Besides the guy is loaded himself, what would he do with my money?" Duncan waves off.

"If you say so," she shrugs, figuring it's far from her business.

"What do you do with your money? Considering what I'm paying you gotta earn a shit load," he says.

"Well I have rent to pay. And other necessities. What I have to spare I but in bank," she states.

"Same old boring, by-the-rules princess," Duncan smirks. Admittedly that was the Courtney he'd missed. Especially making her brake the rules. That had always been fun.

"I'm not boring! And at least I'm not jail," she smirks back.

"No, you just get paid to get people out of jail. You're right: way more fun," he teases.

She rolls her eyes, "I live in New York, Duncan. Even I know how to put on a tight dress and have fun at night," she tells him, unknowingly giving about a hundred mental images, one sexier than the other.

Duncan can't form words after that statement, let alone think of something to say.

As he sits there, completely flabbergasted Courtney stands, "I'm sorry I got to go. I'll visit again when my contact at in the police calls me with news," she promises, "Bye then," she says and heads towards the exit.

Duncan turns in his seat to watch her leave (ogle her ass). His mind is still forming images of her in short, tight dresses, dancing at clubs. She's changed since he last saw her. She's more relaxed, confident. Her hair is also longer and if it's even possible her body is hotter. Then his mind decides to start giving her dance partners and he feels the jealousy flare up in him. She's his princess. No matter how much time has passed. No matter what happened in Vegas.

When the door closes behind her he suddenly gets aware of where he is. The people around him. Funny how those seemed to disappear the moment he saw her.

Then he notices someone in particular; the sketch artist. He's talking to some dude. Duncan doesn't really care, but he hopes he at least saw Courtney. That way he don't have to describe her and make himself sound like love sick fool, which he knows will happen if he starts talking about Courtney.

When Courtney's sitting comfortable in a cab headed for her office to finish up something before going home she realizes what she just said to Duncan and her face turns beat red.

It remains that way for the whole drive to the office. She snaps out of it when the cabby tells how much she owes. She pays, with tip, then heads up to her office. Their conversation keeps replaying in her mind. Everything she said. Everything he said. She concludes that she needs to go out tonight.

Finishing up her work at the office she takes a cab home, calling her friend, Sam, on the way.

"Hey. You free tonight?" she says a greeting.

"Sure. What did you have in mind?" Sam asks cheerily.

The two had met in law school. Though Sam had dropped out and has been trying out all kinds of jobs since then. Her newest carrier path - she claimed - was trophy wife. She had the looks for it, defiantly, but Courtney couldn't imagine Sam playing the role of dutiful housewife. Where Courtney was a control freak Sam a bigger fan of simply letting everything fall where it may.

"I need alcohol. And dancing. Know a place?" Courtney speaks into her phone.

"Know plenty. I'll be outside your building at 11:00. Dress to impress," Sam orders.

Courtney knows that dress to impress mean short and tight. Quite frankly that's what she wants tonight. She would never have a one night stand, but it was always flattering to be noticed.

As she's searching through her wardrobe for something to wear her phone buzzes. It's a text from Oliver.

'Got the cousin in interrogation. Thinks he's about to crack. Your boy might walk soon.' It reads.

A smile formed on her lips and she couldn't repress it even of she wanted to. She puts on some music and dances a little to the beat as she continues her search for something impressive. While she's flipping through her party dresses she tries to convince herself that she would be this happy if any other innocent client got to walk.

In the end she picks a deep blue, simple dress with a sweetheart neckline that goes mid thigh and clings to her body almost like a second skin. She matches the dress with a pair of black heels with peep toe and a simple silver necklace with a small heart pendant.

At 11:30 Sam was sitting in a cab outside her building. Courtney likes how even though she lives up in the sky where few things matters she's always punctual.

"Nice job. Are we impressing anyone special tonight?" Sam comment on her outfit with a smirk. She herself is wearing a black dress with a plunging V-neckline, intricate jade green swirls along the hem that goes mid-thigh. The swirls are the same green colour as her eyes, making them pop out. Her strawberry blond hair has been curled and she's wearing a pair of knee-high, black booths with what Courtney deems painfully high heels.

"No, I'm trying to not think tonight. And how long can we keep dressing like hookers? We're 26 after all," Courtney oh-so-subtly changes the subject.

"When we've turned 29. Then we'll start wearing beautiful dresses and go to charity events," Sam states, understanding that she'll have to wait until they had access to alcohol before Court starts talking.

"What do we do about the hooker dresses then?"

"Give them to charity," Sam shrugs.

"Ok, so let me see if I got this right: your newest client is the guy you dated on the reality show you were both on when you where 16 who dumped you and left you to your own devices in Las Vegas. And he's innocently accused of murder which you are helping to uncover. And the detective in charge of the case is your overly possessive, not-allowed-to-have-any-fun, detective, ex boyfriend Brett. And he's seen an episode from the show you were in. Also you had a "moment" with him when you visits him in jail earlier today," Samantha sums up after her first beer and Courtney's fifth tequila shot.

"And now you're all caught up," Courtney states, slurring slightly.

"Okey... So does he still have a green mowhawk?" She asks curiously, trying to lighten up the conversation.

It works. Courtney giggles before answering, "No. He got black ruffled hair... And all I can think about is combing my fingers through it as he pushes me up against the wall and kisses me everywhere..." she trails off, placing her elbows on the bar counter and her head in her hands as she gets lost in the fantasy.

"You got all that from his hair. Damn girl, and I though I had a dirty mind," Sam smirks, knowing that as her alcohol level rose her inhibitions and denial pretty much evaporated.

"The fantasy continues onto the bed for round two. Granted that his stamina is better than it was when he was 16. Though in his defense his stamina was good then too, just not enough for a round two," she rambles on.

Sam snickers at her, "Well you can't expect much from a teenage boy. If he made you cum more than once I'd say he was skilled," she states, not fully believing that they're having a conversation about the other girl's sex life. It's not like she is prudish, she's just very personal Sam has come to learn over the years.

"Does he still got all the piercings?" she continues prying.

"I wouldn't know. He's in jail, that stuff get taken away from him there," The other girls reminded her before knocking back another shot.

"So he's not wearing the choker necklace either then?"

"Not now at least. I don't know what he wears on a regular basis," she states and waves at the bartender.

"Na-ah," Sam says and shoos the bartender away, "If you have any hope of dancing tonight no more drinks."

"You're right," the tipsy, now bordering to drunk, girl states and slips down from the stool she was previously occupying, "We should dance." Then she walks out to the dance floor.

"Hey! Hold up, I have more questions!" Sam yells after her. She stayed by the bar and kept an eye on her friend. Her friend had a habit of getting into more trouble than she could get out of on her own when drunk.

Courtney moved all over the dance floor, switching partners whenever it suited her. She knew she wasn't making a fool of herself, she and Sam had taken dance classes when they first got to the city. So she allows the alcohol induced haze to envelope her as she gets lost in the crowd of sweaty, drunk, dancing people. Though she's pretty sure not everything happening out on the floor can be deemed as dancing.

She kept changing dance partners all through the night. Even as she felt herself sober up she stayed on the dance floor, mentally forcing the haze to last longer. There was always something wrong with the guys she danced with. Either their smirk wasn't cocky enough, their hair not black or ruffled enough or their eyes not blue enough. That or they weren't the hight she was looking for or their physique was wrong all together.

There is something wrong with every single one. She can't for the life of her understand what she herself wants! Or... She does. But she can't even let herself think it.

Duncan had been lucky. His cell mate - whom he'd finally learned everyone called Schwarts - had seen Courtney. He didn't have to explain what she looked like and by the time lights were out Schwarts handed him his drawing. It looked exactly like her. In the drawing she was smiling brightly and her eyes seemed to sparkle. He's aware that that sounds like a total fucking cliché, but it's the only way he can describe it.

He hangs the drawing up in the ceiling above his pillow. Then he lies down and slowly fall asleep as he gazes up at it - feeling like a complete sissy until his eyes closes.

"I'm obsessing over my client," Courtney says defeated after 5 more shots.

Sam - who's still in the same stool she'd been planted in all night - gave her friend an amused smile, "Why don't you call him what he is?"

"He is my client," Courtney insists.

"He's also your ex boyfriend," Sam reminds her, "What happened with you two anyway?"

"Well. After he won the million dollars we went to Las Vegas. He insisted he could double his winnings in poker," the slightly drunk girl begins to explain.

"Did he?" Sam interrupts.

"More than that. Last I saw him he had close to 3 millions. Anyway. So we were playing and winning thanks to his bluffing skills and my knowledge of math-"

"But only one can play poker at a time," Sam injects.

"Yeah, but someone can stand behind the one playing and pretend to be nibbling on his ear while she in actuality is whispering what he should do next," Courtney smiles to herself, clearly imagining it.

"Then what happened?" Sam urges.

"Well we were in our hotel room, and we started having this huge fight about money and the future and us and whatnot! ... He stormed out. I tried waiting up for him, but he never came back. I waited for days. One day a maid came up and packed his bag, saying he'd requested his luggage. I finally knew he wasn't coming back and so I hitched hiked back home. After I finished high school I got into law school in New York. Until a few days ago I never saw him since that night," Courtney finishes her story.

"I'm sorry," Sam offers, wishing she could help her friend.

"I thought I was over him, you know! But now he's all I can think about. I feel like a stubborn, neurotic, disliked-by-everyone teenager all over again. I'm 26 now for god's sake!" Courtney rambles on exasperated.

"Maybe you just need to get him out of your system," Sam suggests, "You know; do him and dump him. It's not that hard."

"Maybe..." Courtney sighs.

The morning after Courtney is defiantly regretting the 15 shots. She's woken up by her ringtone, who this morning sounds like a bunch of kindergardeners screaming.

"Hello," she grumbles into the phone.

"The friends did it!" Oliver exclaims into the phone, effectively making Courtney's head ring.

"Little quieter," she pleads.

"You sound awful," Oliver states.

"And I look and feel even worse," she says as an answer, "Now who did what and why do I care?"

"The navy friends of the killed navy officer were the ones who killed him. Not your client. He's free to walk," Ollie explains, doing his best to keep his voice calm and quiet despite his excitement.

"That's awesome," Courtney smiled, "Give me one hours to cure this hangover and I'll be down there to hear the whole story," she says and hangs up before he even has a chance to answer.

An hour later Courtney is feeling a lot better and wearing a much classier dress than last night. It's black with a square cut neckline and follows her curves down to her knees with a short slit on each side. Her hair has just been combed through and the heels are simple and red. She could never even imagine leaving her apartment looking less than representable.

"So what happened?" she jumps strait to the point the second she sits down on Ollie's desk.

"Like I texted you last night; the cousin admitted to it all. Now you know I can't give you all the details since technically you and your client is off this case, but: the three navy guys did something illegal, and the now murdered one wanted to come forward. The other two couldn't have that so they killed him. The brother and cousin were also involved but I'm not at liberty to explain that part to you," he explains it as he's leaned back in his chair looking up at her.

"Good job detective," she smiles down at him, "So when will my client be released?"

"The paperwork should be done by now. If you take a cab I'm sure you'll make it there in time to see him walk out of the gates," he smiles knowingly.

"Thanks, Ollie. If you ever need a lawyer; I'm your girl," she tells him before walking out of there with hurried steps.

Duncan was smiling smugly while the guard was handing him his stuff back.

"So sorry our time together was so short lived," he says, faking and apologetic tone and expression.

"I'm sure you'll be back soon enough," the guard states gruffly.

"That's good my dear. Keep having hope," he continues on the act.

Leaving a trail of annoyed guards all the way out the gate he's already smiling smugly and cockily as he sees Courtney waiting for him, leaning against a cab wearing a tight, black dress and red heels that he wants wrapped around his waist. Like yesterday.

She spots him walking towards her, smiling like he's on top of the world.

"Hey princess," he smirks, and it's just cocky enough.

"Told you I'd get you out," she states, smiling smugly back at him. All his piercing are back in and he's wearing a black shirt and black jeans. No spiked choker necklace though. He looked good.

"I thought the police proved my innocence," he arches an eyebrow.

"Then consider me your lucky charm," she keeps smiling innocently up at him. He must have hit some growth period because she does not remember him being this tall. It's not like he's some giant or exaggeratedly tall - it's just a new experience for her to have to look up at him.

"So you're my lucky charm, huh?" he smirks down.

"Well I can defiantly help you _get_ lucky," she smiles mischievously up at him, still leaning against the cab. She felt cheap, but Sam's idea was the only one she has so far. Duncan _needed_ to get out of her system, and if that required him to first get into her pants then so be it.

While she's thinking on how to step forward and get him to her place, Duncan snakes his arm around her to the small of her back and firmly pulls her flush against himself. A gasp escapes her lips and an electric current seem to travel through again and again wherever they're touching. Even through the clothes.

He smirks and opens the car door, "Ladies first," he states and let's go of her.

"What a gentleman," she smile-smirks up at him before sliding into the cab.

Courtney hadn't given much thought to what she would do for the long cab ride to her apartment. So she makes sure both their lips are occupied.

His lips is intoxicating against hers and they both lose track of time. The driver probably fake coughed at them about ten times. But neither would really know for sure. Courtney pays him what the taximeter says with tips before dragging Duncan with her up to her apartment.

On the way they keep slamming each other into the walls, either one always keeping their lips on the other.

When they're alone in the elevator Duncan elicits a throaty moan from the back of her throat when he finds her sweet spot on her pulse point. He scrapes his teeth over that same point and she whimpers in responds, her knees buckling, making her glad his hands are keeping her up. Even though they're on her ass. It's not really that bad either, she kinda likes having them there.

Finally they get up to her apartment, and after struggling with the lock for a moment they make it inside, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to the bed.

Duncan is taking his time sweetly torturing here. Moving down he starts with one kiss on each ankle, then continues up the inside of her calf, sucking lightly. When he reaches her thighs he sucks a little harder, nibbling, scraping his teeth and even biting gently once too on his way up towards her centre.

Courtney is withering, moaning loudly and bucking her hips, desperate for friction.

"Please Duncan, please, please, please, please. Duncan, Duncan, Duncan," she keeps exhaling huskily, like a mantra.

Hearing Courtney moaning, begging and repeating his name like that has Duncan harder than he's ever been.

He smirks as he blows lightly on her dripping wet sex, and her back arches off of the bed as a whiny moan leaves her lips. Finally his lips closes around her clit and he sucks on it. That's all it takes for her to come. All the foreplay had her strung so tightly that when she finally gets the friction she's craving she can't hold back.

Duncan's tongue is lapping up her juice as she comes, letting her ride out her orgasm.

When it's over and she's lying there panting, Duncan doesn't give her much time to breath before continuing on his path up her body. He's trailing open mouth kisses from her sex up to her belly button where he lightly swirls his tongue around it. She had no idea how good something that simple would feel and once again her back is arching off the bed and a knot starts tightening in the pit of her belly.

Traveling up her stomach he finally makes it to her breasts, and pink, perky nibbles already hard. He takes one in his mouth and teases the other with his fingers. Courtney is pleading again, digging her fingers into his hair and tugging slightly. It's enough to elect a hiss from both pain and pleasure from Duncan as he releases her nipple.

"So the Princess wanna play rough?" he questions, smirking down at her.

"Please Duncan," Courtney begs huskily, "Take me."

Those four words from her lips is enough to make him lose control. He grabs her thighs, making her wrap them around his hips as he captures her lips in a passionate kiss. While their lips, tongues and teeth are fighting for dominance he drives into her.

She screams as she's finally full, and loud moans can be heard throughout the apartment as he starts thrusting hard and fast into her. One hand is teasing her clit and the other is massaging her breast while is mouth is sucking on her sweet spot. He makes her come twice more before pulling out of her and releasing himself.

He rolls over so he doesn't crush her when he collapses. Neither knows what to do next while they lie there panting. Duncan turns to look at her, she's looking up, eyes hooded, skin glistening with sweat, lips bruised and slightly parted and a hickey is forming on her neck. A smirk forms on his lips as he sees how he's marked her.

Courtney is way too tired to change the sheets tonight. And she can't honestly think that's one of the first things she thinks about. She kicks off her heels, which Duncan insisted she kept on and turns over so she facing him. With a lazy, pleasured smile her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out.

When Duncan's sure she's asleep he pulls her to him, arm around her waist and his chin on top of her head. His fingers lazily traces patterns on her back while her breath is comfortably tickling his chest. When morning does eventually come he's not too sure he'll be able to let go.

The next morning Courtney wakes up pressed against another body. But not uncomfortably so.

"Morning babe," a gruff voice greets her.

That's when everything from last night comes rushing back to Courtney.

"You know the fact that you don't insist on cuddling when we sleep? I was never sure if that was because you were mad at me or if you just weren't one of those clingy chicks," Duncan confesses.

"It wasn't because I was mad. Or because I'm not clingy. I wanted to be close to you at night, I was just afraid. That one day you might leave me and then I had to get used to sleeping without you. I just knew that'd be too hard," she admits while casually stroking her fingers through his chest hair. "You were supposed to be gone by morning," she states, voice turned firm as she rolls out of his grasp.

"What?" Duncan asks confused and prop himself up on his elbows.

"This was just a one night stand. We're not doing this," she states, keeping her voice calm, and gestures to the bed.

"Doing what?"

"Pillow talk. We're not gonna lie here all morning and go down memory lane, or talk about what we've been doing all this time or confess to how much we've missed each other," she orders, her voice raising.

Picking up her chiffon robe from a hook on the wall by her bed she shrugs it on and ties the belt, her back towards him. Duncan - ever the rule breaker - leans over the bed and grabs her wrist, pulling her back in the bed with one tug. Rolling on top of her he secures her wrist in one hand over her head and looks down at her with an earnest expression. "I did miss you," he tells her.

"Duncan," she says warningly, though her voice is soft.

"I did. Like crazy. Ten years and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You drive me _crazy_, but it's a good crazy, and I like it," he tells her, keeping her gaze locked with his.

"Then why did you leave me? I mean you just stormed out of that hotel room, having a maid pick up your suitcase a few days later," she's pleading now. She missed him too, and wants to understand why he left her.

"I thought you just wanted the money," he states.

"What made you think that?" she asks shocked.

"You kept asking for it," he accuses.

"Just a little bit so I'd be able to get home if you decided to ditch me," she explains defensively, "And that was a realistic fear it turns out," she snaps at him and tries to brake free of restrain he has on her.

"Yeah well I got scared, ok!? I've never actually cared about the girls I dated until I met you. And then you kept talking about the money and asking for it and I got fucking scared and ran off like a some fucking sissy!" he exclaims.

She stops her thrashing, pausing with her back arched and hair a mess, the belt on the robe slightly undone and the robe just moments away from sliding off. Along with the panting her chest keeps raising and sinking and her eyes are wide open like a deer caught in the headlights.

She doesn't know what to say. She has no idea what can make up for a misunderstanding that's both their fault and happened 10 years ago.

"I missed you too," she breaths out.

Duncan leans down a captures her lips with his. They both do their best to channel all their feeling for each other into that one kiss. Eventually Courtney needs air and pulls away. He on the other hand hasn't had his fill of her yet and continues trailing open mouth kisses down her neck, sucking on the hickey from last night. She moans deep in her throat, her back arching even more. Using his other hand he undoes her robe before snaking his arm around the small of her back and pulls her up so their hips and chest are flush against each other.

Then he trails teasingly light kisses up to her ear. He nibbles slightly on her earlobe before whispering,

"I love you Princess."


End file.
